


back, to the time.

by finkpishnets



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: He’d said the words in the heat of the moment but it didn’t mean they didn’t still ring true,hadto by clan law, and the nausea pushes at his anger as he digs his nails into his palms.Traitor, traitor, traitor, he thinks and only sees penitent eyes looking back.





	back, to the time.

**Author's Note:**

> set post the s1 finale & not s2 compliant.
> 
> it's been so long since i've written for this fandom, and i have all these partially written fics still sat in a folder so i thought i'd try and get back into it, and, yeah, HI HAVE SOME ANGST + RECONCILIATION.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lily asks. Her hair’s fallen out of its usual neat ponytail and her eyes are sad even as she tries to keep her expression neutral. He knows she’s been dealing with the immediate response to the attack, talking the others down and upping security, and he’s more grateful that she could know.

He needs to go out and comfort the loved ones of the dead, needs to find words of strength for those thirsting for revenge, needs to be their _leader_ , but right now he just feels drained.

(“ _Punny_ ,” Simon’s voice in his head says, and he wants to crack his skull against the closest brick wall.)

“Of course I don’t want to,” Raphael says, then shakes his head. “No, right now I _definitely_ want to, but I’m not naive enough to believe it’ll stick. It’s not about what I _want_ to do, it’s about what I _have_ to.”

He’d said the words in the heat of the moment but it didn’t mean they didn’t still ring true, _had_ to by clan law, and the nausea pushes at his anger as he digs his nails into his palms.

 _Traitor, traitor, traitor_ , he thinks and only sees penitent eyes looking back.

“No one would blame you—” Lily starts, and Raphael cuts her off with a wave of his hand because they both know it’s not true. Those loyal to Raphael might let it slide, but neither of them are stupid enough to believe everyone under this roof is unwavering in their commitment, especially now that Camille walks free and vengeful.

Raphael’s responsibility is the continued functioning and safety of the clan. He can’t — he _won’t_ — let anything else sway him from that, even if it feels like his un-beating heart’s suffocating him from the inside out, climbing up his throat and spilling across his tongue, betrayal and pain and humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” Lily says, and Raphael nods, accepting it and storing it away with everything else he can’t think about, not yet.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep and unnecessary breath. “We have work to do.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

Raphael has one of the older vampires deliver the official notification. It’s signed and copied, with the secondary memos going out to the Clave, the seelies, and the wolves as is normal custom, and more personally to the closest clans even though Raphael can’t begin to think it’s necessary in this case.

“Are you—” Simon says, voice sharp and overwhelmed, and Raphael can picture the dramatic wave of his hands even across voicemail. “Are you _kidding me?_ This has witness signatures and wax seals. I’m pretty sure wanting someone dead shouldn’t come with this much _paperwork_ , Raphael!” 

Raphael squeezes his eyes shut, pressing fingers against his temples and the ever-present ache, and plays the message again and again before throwing his phone across the room and watching it shatter against the wall.

“You okay, boss?” Manuel asks, passing by outside.

“Fine,” he lies, and doesn’t need Manuel’s raised eyebrow to know how flat it falls.

“Time for a new cellphone, huh?” he says casually, hands in his pockets, and Raphael nods, feeling pathetic. “No worries, the speed they bring them out nowadays, yours was old news anyway.”

“Thanks,” Raphael says, and Manuel nods. 

“I’ve got ya,” he says, and Raphael can hear the promise for what it really is.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The tension around the hotel feels palpable, sticking in Raphael’s throat and suffocating.

He wants to run and scream and tear the world apart with his teeth just so he can _breathe_ again. He straightens the lapels of his jacket instead, tugs at the cuffs, and wishes the romanticized lore were true when his reflection stares blankly back. He smiles, charm and mockery and every mask he’s had perfected for decades, and watches it crack and shatter in front of him.

He’s just so _tired_.

“It’s time,” Lily says, leaning against the doorframe, and Raphael nods, leaving his reflection behind. He offers her his arm, and she rolls her eyes and takes it anyway, and if her hands are shaking then he’ll never mention it. 

The foyer is crowded. Not everyone present is loyal to him, he knows that, but those that are close ranks, stepping just near enough to be comforting, and the grateful wave threatens to suffocate him as much as the grief. Today isn’t about loyalty, though. Not really. Death is inevitable, and afterlife isn’t, and Raphael’s always hated funerals but this is different, worse.

A knife taken to an endless thread.

“I hate tradition,” Lily says, barely the thought of a whisper against his ear.

Raphael couldn’t agree more.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Please,” Simon says, “Can you—? I just want to _talk_.”

His lips are tugged down at the corners, and Raphael’s used to the laugh that’s always there, under the surface; the biting anger that brings his eyes to life. He doesn’t recognise this sad resignation, and it’s more jarring than he’d like to admit.

“Not today,” he says, curling his hands into fists to stop himself reaching out. 

Simon doesn’t have the same compunction, and his fingers tug at Raphael’s sleeve, creasing the fabric, and Raphael can’t stop looking at the twist of his mouth, the plea that’s been there since events unfurled into something awful and unexpected and _wrong_.

“ _Please_ ,” Simon says, and Raphael’s glad his heart has no space left to break.

“Not _today_ ,” he says again, and the bells of mourning ring out around them, the hotel doors moments from opening where the night air won’t hide Simon’s presence for long. 

Simon lets go, folding his arms over his chest, and he doesn’t understand everything but maybe he understands enough.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Raphael turns around and doesn’t watch him leave.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Raphael works and plans and tries, and when members of the clan start trickling away, he doesn’t make them stay. What he has here is fragile at best, and he needs the foundations left standing to be something worth building on. 

Those that _do_ stay are fierce in their loyalty, and Raphael’s not sure what he’s done to deserve it but he’ll take their strength and use it until he re-finds his own.

“Boss,” Carter says, and he’s new but not _new_ , Turned sometime after Raphael had already begun to feel old but before the world shifted to its current age. He’s not one of Camille’s, though, reborn into Southern cornfields and the sharp reality of poverty that Raphael knows too well, and that’s worth more than any experience or meaningless turnover of time.

“I need a favor,” Raphael says, and knows it’s a risk.

“Anything,” Carter says, and his earnestness is all Raphael requires.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“You’re having me followed,” Simon says, like he wants to be angry but doesn’t remember how yet. 

“I am,” Raphael says, because if Simon’s noticed then it speaks more for his training than anything else, and that’s good, that’s important.

“Are you trying to freak me out before you have me killed?” Simon says. “Because that is, like, way too much effort, Raphael. I’m pretty sure I’m already freaked out about a hundred and ten percent of the time, and, honestly? The whole demons and Shadowhunters and Clary’s crazy dad thing are a _lot_ more scary than a dude who holds doors open for little old ladies. Unless he eats the little old ladies. Oh shit, does he _eat_ the little old ladies? What the _hell_ , Raphael?”

Raphael rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify that with a response.

“No,” Simon says, once he’s worn himself out, his shoulders dropping. “Really. Why?”

“Why do you _think?_ ” Raphael says, and he definitely remembers how to be angry, hears it spat in the spaces between his own words and hates that Simon Lewis took his self-control and ran with it months ago. 

He’s angry at Simon for not noticing, not _realizing_ —

(He’s angry at himself for not being angry enough.)

“Oh,” Simon says, and when he blinks there’s life behind his eyes again.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Time ticks by.

War’s on the horizon, and Raphael’s too young to know the gravity of it himself, but he sees it when he drops in on Magnus, in the hunch of his shoulders and the sharpness of his gaze, and Raphael lingers over their time together until Magnus’ expression softens into the fondness that’s saved Raphael more times than he can count.

“Keep safe,” Magnus says, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and Raphael’s not been a child for a long time but he sways into it anyway.

“You too,” he says, and Magnus’ patient smile is a reminder that he’s more than experienced at looking after himself.

He’s in love now, though, and Raphael knows how dangerous that can be.

The threat crackling in the air has a different effect at the hotel; they’ve been lost and scrambling for so long that now their world’s shaping itself into something possibly, hopefully, _needfully_ stable they’re grabbing it and running full steam ahead. Late nights and laughter, decadence and hope and danger, and the clan now — _his_ clan — won’t cross the lines he’s lain, Accords of not, but everything else is fair game. 

There’s still Camille to deal with, still the Shadowhunters that don’t see their own hypocrisy when it’s spilt in blood before them, but right now—

Right now everything’s almost okay.

Maybe he’ll be able to sleep soon.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“What do you need?” Lily asks, and it takes Raphael a moment to understand what she’s asking.

“Lily—”

“No,” she says. “Listen. I’m not trying to make you decide anything, but I’m your second, and I’m your _friend_ , and whatever it is you need to do I just want you to know that everyone left, _this_ house, is yours now, no matter what.”

It’s a statement, a profession, a promise.

It’s _permission._

“Whatever you need,” Lily says again.

Raphael lets himself think about it.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Is this—?” Simon says. “Does it honestly take _just as much paperwork_ to say you _don’t_ want someone dead anymore? Hell, do you guys even _recycle?_ This is _completely insane_ , Raphael.”

His voice cracks and his hands are shaking as he clutches the folder to his chest like it’ll vanish if he doesn’t keep it close.

“It’s tradition,” Raphael says with a shrug.

“Does this mean—?” Simon says, and he looks so scared, so hopeful, that Raphael knows he’s made the right choice.

“Yes,” he says, and Simon collapses in relief, sinking against the wall behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and Raphael nods because he knows that, too. Has known it since the moments after when he’d watched the reality sink in and Simon’s eyes scream in apology even as his feet walked out the door. 

Simon betrayed them — betrayed _him_ — and Raphael can lay out the reasons for days and still be righteously angry at the end of it, but the months have stretched thin and he’s tired of it.

Tired of pretending he didn’t forgive Simon almost immediately. 

“I wouldn’t do it again,” Simon says. “I promise. If I could, I’d choose you. I’d always—”

“I know,” Raphael says, because he does. Because after the hurt and the anger and the humiliation had melted away, he’d still known it then, too.

Simon’s hand reaches out, stopping short and waiting, and Raphael steps closer and lets him press his fingertips against the place his heart used to beat.

“Can I kiss you?” Simon asks, voice shaking, and Raphael finally, _finally_ , lets himself think about how much he’s missed him, missed this, missed _them_. 

“Okay,” he says.

When Simon closes the distance it feels like a fresh start.

 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come chat with me on [tumblr](http://madroxed.tumblr.com/) any time!


End file.
